


paradise lost

by hot_damn_louis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nighttime, One Shot, Playgrounds, Resolution, Short One Shot, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_damn_louis/pseuds/hot_damn_louis
Summary: It wasn’t fair, what life had in store for the two of them. Ever since that year, 8 years ago now, the two of them had never been the same. Stiles had lost his mother, then Derek lost his whole family. When he returned to Beacon Hills, their cycle of never ending pain started again.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	paradise lost

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I am currently in the middle of writing this beast of a work that is growing by the day. I know. If you're actively reading my WIP, then I apologize. But here's a little treat of something else?
> 
> I got inspiration from a story idea I've had bouncing around for a while, and I was listening to The Used's new album, and the first track (Paradise Lost, a poem by John Milton) really spoke to me in a weird way. This is all written in like an hour, not edited or anything. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated.

The playground at the elementary school was always going to be nostalgic for Stiles. The school was the closest of his three schools to his house, and there was always something nice about walking hand and hand to school with his mom, and then running up to her after the bell rang to ask for just a few more minutes of playtime. Even now, the creaking of the metal chains of the swings brought back memories of pumping his legs hard, pushing himself ever higher. 

There was a legend that some kid had gone all the way around. Stiles had tried so many times to follow suit. It wasn’t until he got older that he realized how impossible it was. 

He pushed himself gently back and forth on the swings, like a mother rocking a newborn. He was trying to seek any sort of comfort, and right now, the old playground was the most comforting place. Through thick and thin, it offered him the most fun throughout his childhood. It reminded him of being a kid, of a time when his mom was still alive. 

Stiles really wished that more of his friends were still alive too. 

He knew that was not productive thinking, but he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to see Allison’s dimples again, or see Tabitha’s smile as he walked into the precinct. He wanted Aiden to be alive, if only to comfort his brother and for the two of them to still be together. He wanted Erica and Boyd to still be alive, for the Alpha pack to not have taken them. 

He wanted so much, but it felt out of his hands. He was broken. There wasn’t going to be anything to fix him. 

“Park’s closed.”

Stiles looked up to see Derek standing only a few yards away, hands stuffed in the pockets of a dark hoodie. For the first time since Stiles had met him, he really looked his age. People always assumed he was older, more capable. But, the reality was, Derek was barely 23. Only 5 years older than Stiles, and emotionally traumatized through and through. 

It wasn’t fair, what life had in store for the two of them. Ever since that year, 8 years ago now, the two of them had never been the same. Stiles had lost his mother, then Derek lost his whole family. When he returned to Beacon Hills, their cycle of never ending pain started again. 

Maybe it wasn’t their fault. Maybe it was the fault of this stupid town, and the strong desire to protect it. 

Stiles had always wondered what living somewhere else would be like. He always wanted to pack his things up and just go, drive out of town as if he had no responsibilities. He felt ties to the town, sure, but they were only memories at this point. And the bad were starting to outweigh the good. 

“Stiles, go home.”

He wasn’t ignoring Derek, but he was deciding to not speak for the time being. He had caused so much harm, and it seemed as if he was only causing more harm by opening his mouth. 

He had nightmares nearly every night, ones that ended in screams that woke up his dad. If he could sleep at all. 

During the day, he seemed to dig himself into deeper holes. His dad would ask him how he was doing, and if he was honest ( _ I want to die I want to leave I can’t live here anymore _ ) then his dad was too concerned. If he lied and said he was fine, then his dad was equally concerned. There was no winning in this scenario. 

He wanted a break. He wanted to sleep. He wanted his body to feel like himself again. 

Wanting things was a dangerous game. He wanted too much, and despite his low expectations, there was still a level of disappointment when he woke up day after day without his wishlist fulfilled. 

“Talk to me.”

“And say what?” Stiles retorted, staring blankly off into the distance, pushing himself gently with his foot, trying to ignore the intensity of the look from Derek. 

“Anything. It’s strange without your voice filling the air,” Derek said, shoulders hunching, making him seem almost smaller. 

“So you miss me,” Stiles said, looking down towards his feet. 

“What if I do?” Derek asked, stepping closer to Stiles, his feet crunching on the bark chips. “Even though you’re annoying, I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Ha!” Stiles burst, letting out a hard breath. “I don’t have friends anymore, Derek. All I have is people who hate me and graves.”

The air was silent after that. The admission that their friends (packmates, associates, helpers,  _ whatever _ ) were dead was enough to kill any sort of mounting tension. They always talked like this, even when they weren’t around the pack. They would snark at each other back and forth until one of them burst the bubble, or the pot boiled over. 

Derek was surprisingly witty and fun to banter with when he wasn’t being so uptight about his image. When it was just the two of them, arguing about what to do, he seemed to relax more. Before the Nogitsune, they were definitely crawling ever closer towards friendship, whatever that meant within the trying times. 

“I am trying to help you,” Derek huffed, crossing the short distance between them and taking a seat on the other swing. “Don’t push me away like you do everyone else.”

“I don’t push people away,” Stiles said quickly. 

“Lie.”

“Fuck you, Derek. Using your werewolf powers to be a human lie detector is not cool. Let me have the piece in mind that I still have good intentions,” Stiles said, scuffing his foot hard in the bark chips. He didn’t want to look at Derek, but he could feel that fire bubbling up in his chest again. 

He knew the fire was more than just friendship. But that was not his place to say, or push onto Derek. He could barely come to terms with it himself in the state of mind he was in. It was feelings that he wished he could put on pause and resume when he had the mental capacity to deal with them properly.

“Did your dad ever tell you anything about looking for you? After the Nogitsune had really gotten to you?” Derek asked, pushing himself to match Stiles’ gentle swinging.

“No.”

“It was the night that you got the MRI. I couldn’t believe that you were the Nogitsune,” Derek said. He took a deep breath, as if to continue, but he didn’t. He tapped his fingers together, deep in thought. 

“And?”

Derek shot him a look. “I couldn’t help but think that the Nogitsune had picked someone weak.”

“Ah thanks, reminding me that I’m the weak link in this entire scenario,” Stiles said, scuffing his foot hard, sending bark chips flying. 

“No, idiot. I was concerned because spirits like that burned through bodies. If he had possessed a werewolf, that would be sustainable for months. A human would only work for a few weeks, and at that point, we had no idea how long you’d been possessed. We could only guess.”

Oh. 

“I was worried. I started searching on my own, hoping to find information in the family beastiary or if Peter knew anything. The Hale’s are supposed to protect Beacon Hills, and I couldn’t even protect you,” Derek said. It was likely the most vulnerable thing that Derek had ever said to Stiles. 

“No one should care about me that much,” Stiles said, shrugging. He knew that was the truth. He really felt that way about himself, at least now. 

“Explain the chess board. That’s one thing I could never get my mind around,” Derek said, his voice quiet. The soft sounds of his breathing filled the spaces between words. It was comforting to have him, even if his presence was mildly unwelcomed. 

“It was to explain the situation to my dad,” Stiles said plainly. That’s truly all it was, to Stiles. He did what made sense to him. He had to see the whole board. 

“Why was I the king?” Derek asked.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Stiles shot back. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Scott was already the true Alpha at that point. I wasn’t the Alpha anymore, and yet you put me as the king and Scott as a pawn,” Derek said. His hands twisted on the metal chains of the swing, the swish of his palms on the metal audible in the quiet night air. 

Huh. Stiles knew he had done that, and he did it on purpose, but having to explain his decisions was not in his original gameplan. He wanted to show his dad how important Derek was within their lives, but he never realized there would be repercussions to those decisions. 

“I was trying to explain it to my dad,” Stiles said again, even though he had already mentioned that fact. “I wanted him to understand how important you were. To me, to the pack, to all the events that had transpired. He wanted to know everyone involved, and I didn’t want him arresting you again,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

Derek shook his head. “That’s not all. It can’t be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles said, now feeling angry at having to explain himself. He looked over at Derek, eyes narrowing at him. 

“I trust you, okay? I trust you, and I went to look at the chessboard while you were possessed. I went to look because I trust you and I knew your opinion was the smartest,” Derek said, eyes downcast. 

There wasn’t anything to say to that. Stiles had absolutely no words left to say, and not because he didn’t have anything to say to Derek. He had plenty to say to Derek, words to fill up day after day after day until they were both tired. The idea that Derek trusted him was new. That was what left Stiles nearly speechless. 

“Fuck, Stiles. I’m trying to speak honestly with you and now’s the time you decide not to talk?” Derek said, standing in frustration. He paced away, but quickly turned back, not wanting to abandon the conversation. 

“What is there to say? You trust me? I’ve trusted you since you saved me from the Kanima! I trusted you since before then!” Stiles said, eyes focused on Derek. “You want to know why you were the king? Because to me, you were the king of my version of events. I wasn’t in the middle, Scott wasn’t in the middle, but you. Everything revolves around you. I’m not even the king in my own version of events.” 

This was too much. Too vulnerable. He didn’t want to let anyone in close anymore, not even his own friends. Everyone close to him was affected, and he had destroyed so many relationships over the past few months. It was not fair to let anyone else in, knowing that they’re going to get the same treatment. 

He wanted to get away. He wanted to leave and hope that Derek would get out of this stupid town, finally get the happiness and freedom he deserved. It wasn’t fair for Stiles to keep dragging him further and further into the tornado of hurt. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Stiles spat, crossing his arms over his chest, hugging himself tight as so to not fall apart. 

“For everything. I should have protected you from the start,” Derek said, rubbing a hand over his face. He took a deep breath, but said nothing else. 

Sometimes, when he did that, Stiles wondered what was going on in his head. He wanted to know everything that was going on in Derek’s head.

But happiness was not in the books for Stiles anymore. The Nogitsune made sure of that, as a parting gift. He tore away anything that resembled love from his life, and made sure that guilt was associated with any happy memories. He royally fucked him up. 

“It wasn’t your job to protect me. I’m just the stupid human who played with fire and got burned,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

He stood up with the intention of walking away, leaving the conversation there. He wasn’t ready to face this many emotions head on. He didn’t want his weakness and his weird, quiet crush on Derek to get revealed, or for his utter loneliness to be pulled to the surface. 

If supernatural therapists were a real thing, Stiles really needed one. 

“I failed you. I—” Derek cut himself off, looking down. He seemed frustrated with himself. The tension in his body alone was clearly visible. 

“I had a dream about you,” Derek admitted. “I asked you how you knew if you were in a dream, and you reminded me to count my fingers,” Derek continued, hands moving at his sides. After a moment, Stiles realized that he was tapping his fingers against his leg individually, one at a time. 

“Derek—?” Stiles started, questioning him. 

“I just wanted you to know I think you’re my anchor,” Derek said in a rush. He turned away quickly, not letting Stiles read his body in the dark. His shoulders were tense, hunched over. 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile. He was someone’s anchor. He was  _ Derek’s  _ anchor. That was something he never thought would happen. He wasn’t important enough to be anyone’s anchor. 

“I think you’re mine,” Stiles said in return, smiling at the thought of it. 

It felt weird to smile. He knew consciously that the Nogitsune had used his body to smile, but he himself had not felt a joy like this in a long time. This was an overwhelming emotion, taking over his whole body. He finally felt happy. 

When Derek turned around, he seemed less tense than before. He almost seemed happy, if the slight upturn of his lips indicated anything. “Good.”

“More than good.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, stepping closer to him. 

He wanted to kiss him. He sort of always wanted to kiss Derek, even when they were fighting hard or arguing. But, right now, he wanted to kiss him even more than usual. The burning heat in his chest was there, the attraction and love bubbling up uncontrollably. 

“You look like you again,” Derek said, his hands twitching at his sides. 

“I look like your anchor,” Stiles said, stepping closer to Derek. 

When they were pressed chest to chest, almost nose to nose in the dark, Derek put his hands on Stiles’ waist, both gripping him closer and ready to push him away at any moment. 

“I’m not sure either of us is ready for this,” Derek said quietly, his breath hot against Stiles’ face. 

“I know. But I want us to get there,” Stiles admitted. 

There was so much he wanted. There was so much that would be impossible to ever happen again. He wanted to be himself again, more than anything. This felt like working towards that wishlist of wants. 

Derek kissed him softly, a gentle press of lips together, only for a moment. It was everything that Stiles had hoped it would be, his heart hammering against the fire in his chest. 

“I’m so fucked up,” Derek said, pushing Stiles away from him. 

“So am I.”

“Should we even?”

Stiles nodded, letting himself move away from Derek, even if it hurt him to move away. “I want to. Even if it takes us forever. Don’t you want to move on from this hell?” 

The darkness that plagued Stiles, the kind that was rooted in his heart, was never really going to go away. There was nothing he could do about that. But, he was not going to let Derek slip through his fingers now. He wanted to be more than alone. He didn’t want his mouth to harm anyone else. He wanted his words to matter. 

So many wants. But Derek seemed like he could help make some of them come true. 

“Slow,” Derek said, almost insisted. 

“Slow,” Stiles agreed. “Slow and steady wins the race,” he added, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“Shut up,” Derek said. There was no heat behind his words, only teasing and kindness.


End file.
